Bikerafting Kyrgyzstan 2 – The Kok-Kiya River

Words: Max Corcoran
Photos: Bernhard Andersson & Max Corcoran

Continuing our adventures in Kyrgyzstan after an action-packed first section from Barskoon to Naryn, it was time to head south to the famous Köl-Suu Lake for packrafting and bikerafting. This section would require a special border permit to enter, a bit of pre-planning, and a willingness to take it slow.

We set out from Naryn on a scorching day, the sun beaming down on our freshly recovered skin. To combat the sunburn incident from the snow-covered pass a few days before we had picked up balaclavas from the Bazaar, making us look like we were planning on robbing a bank. Adding to this ridiculous look were our packrafts, paddles and lifejackets hanging off our bikes, along with all our usual camping and cooking equipment. This drew curious looks from the locals as we rode out of the city proper.

Our new balaclavas for the next few days and Bernhard’s paddle jaunting out from his handlebars.

Straight away, the road turned upwards. Steep and jammed with trucks the road cut through the otherwise uninterrupted landscape, and we crawled along in our lowest gears. Luckily, the meandering river alongside us proved to be invaluable for dunking our clothes in to cool us down. Eventually the busy main road out of town transitioned to a smaller gravel one, a much welcome change as we started to glimpse the proper big snow-capped mountains in the distance. In the previous section from Barskoon to Naryn, our lunches had consisted of stale bread, rubbery cheese and greasy tins of salmon and tuna. So, we had decided to pack some pre-made sandwiches instead. It’s amazing what a difference a tasty meal can make when you are on adventures like this one. Soon after lunch we made it to the southern border checkpoint within Kyrgyzstan, where officials checked our border permits due to the close proximity to China. Five men in army uniforms gathered around our paperwork in a tiny room as we waited patiently for them to scrutinise our passports, carefully spelling out each letter of our names into a massive ledger. Eventually we were free to go, signalled by a grunt from one of the men, and we resumed our ride down towards the Köl-Suu Lake area.

After riding for a bit longer, the mountains in the distance becoming ever closer, we set up camp not far from the road on the soft grass and enjoyed some pasta for dinner with the sunset in the background. This was perhaps my favourite campsite of the trip; a trickling stream nearby, soft, flat grass, and the excitement of more adventure in the coming days.

It’s hard to beat a campsite like this after a long, hot day of riding.

Awakening from a deep sleep the next day, it was time to finally enter the Kok Kiya Valley. Descending the rest of the way to the Ak-Say River and crossing the bridge, we decided to take the old 4WD road into the valley. Despite having double the elevation profile of the newer road it wouldn’t have any cars or people on it. Up we went, as the track quickly transitioned from overgrown car tracks to much fainter horse tracks, forcing us to push our bikes essentially the rest of the way to the top. (Two months later, the Silk Road Mountain race route had riders going down this descent rather than up, and we know why). Whilst I was at times cursing having the extra weight of the rafting equipment, any remorse for this choice of track quickly vanished as we reached the top. With far-reaching views in all directions and not a hint of any other person anywhere close, it was truly the landscape we had hoped for. Looking back, this decision to take the harder, slower and more scenic route essentially summarised our whole trip; we were not there to break any speed records, but to bask in the intense landscapes of this incredibly beautiful and unforgiving country.

Remarkably, since we were quite high up after reaching the top of the old 4WD road, we found ourselves in a rare spot of reception, and so could quickly FaceTime our partners and show them the view before continuing. I couldn’t help but marvel at modern technology and the ridiculousness of it all, being able to speak (essentially) face to face to our loved ones in the most remote-feeling location we had ever been in our lives.

The first photo is the view at the top of the track and the end of the valley we were soon entering
(Bernhard walking back from having a look). The second photo is the view from the top of the descent into the valley. The third photo is my bike at the top of the old 4WD track; see if you can spot the packraft, lifejacket, and paddle!

One nail-biting descent later, following the faint horse tracks down into the valley, we hit the bottom and hooted in delight. There we were, next to the Kok-Kiya River, the river we had had our eyes on online for the better part of six months. Despite our tired bodies we quickly set up camp and got ready for a quick raft mission along the river to the end of the valley. We were anxious to test out our rafts without the bikes before the proper bikerafting the next day. This proved to be hugely successful and a lot of fun; we reached the end of the valley and walked back with our rafts over our shoulders, super excited for the following day.

Bernhard with the rafts at the end of the valley, and our campsite for the night. (You can see where Köl-Suu Lake is located in the gap in the mountains!)

The next day we stripped our bikes down to only the essential riding and rafting gear and followed the river upstream, along the horse tracks until we reached the tourist yurts and guesthouses up the valley. We chatted to a few of the locals and tourists alike, as we had been doing the entire trip. The locals weren’t in the least bit surprised to see bikes in this valley, however raised their eyebrows upon seeing the rafts, grinning in delight upon hearing our plans. We ascended the steep horse track up to the lake with the rest of the tour group riding horses there, hilariously receiving encouragement from them as we went along, side by side. Eventually, we crested the hill, and the lake was properly in sight.

Bernhard carrying his bike through the river alongside the horse trekking tour, and the lake in all its glory.

There it was; Köl-Suu Lake. The pale blue water complimented the weather-worn cliffs in all directions, like guardians overseeing their domain. We had in fact gotten lucky, as the lake had only just filled in for the first time that season from the previous days of rain. We sat on a rock overlooking the lake for a spell, admiring its scale and beauty, before beginning to set up our rafts on the bank and, before long, setting off.

Immediately, our jaws hit the floor (of our packrafts) as we entered the lake. We felt like we were wearing colour changing glasses, ones that muted the colours of the world into dull greens and greys; there was nothing for the eye to see except vast expanses of rock and water, and we were all alone on our little lifeboats. After paddling for a while deeper into the canyon, we stopped off at a pebbly beach for a lunch break and a bit of drone flying. It was surreal watching the little screen for the drone as it went up, us looking like little ants amongst such a huge landscape.

Bernhard setting up his packraft on the bank, us feeling like little ants amongst the cliffs, our rest spot on the beach, and us coming back to the start point. The second and fourth photos were taken by some friendly Germans we met later who happened to take some photos of us on the lake as they sat up above.

Eventually it was time to turn back, as we were wary of getting stuck deep in the canyon against the northerly winds that push themselves down the lake. Upon reaching the shore once again, what we had just done didn’t feel real. We packed up, a little dazed, and headed back down the valley to the mouth of the river to packraft down the river.

Bernhard leaving Köl-Suu Lake, and me with our bikes on the packrafts after a quick set up.

It was time to start paddling the river, an experience which was completely and utterly surreal. The water was at the perfect level for having a whole bicycle on the front of your raft and yet had enough flow to make things interesting. We floated down the river from the jagged, snow-capped mountains surrounding the lake, to the grassy hills further down the valley, hooting in delight and excitement the whole way. We had finally done it; what a bizarre yet fulfilling way to experience both the river and the land next to it.

Bernhard and I at different points of our river descent, and our getting out point at the end of the valley.

And that was that. Over the next few days, we bikerafted the river again and visited the lake for the second time, whilst camping closer to the tourist yurts further up the valley for some company. Eventually it was time to part ways back in Naryn, Bernhard following the rest of the Tian Shan bikepacking route back to Bishkek and then home again, whilst I made my way to the far western city of Osh to begin the Pamir Highway route through Tajikistan. Keep an eye out for these adventures to come on the Ground Effect Blog.

Our final campsite in the Kok-Kiya valley, closer to the yurt camps. This photo was taken by a tour guide staying nearby. Whilst we didn’t catch his name, he was excited to airdrop us this photo before we left. Thank you stranger.

For more details about Max and Bernhard's Kyrgyzstan adventure you can check out The Prologue and their Bikepacking Kyrgyzstan blogs.